


Happy Holidays #NewYearNewMe

by HMarvels31



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Winter Soldier (Comics)
Genre: Bucky Barnes Fluff, Domestic Avengers, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Frenemies Bucky Barnes & Sam Wilson, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Holidays, New Year's Fluff, Protective Bucky Barnes, Protective Steve Rogers, Romance, Sam Wilson is a Gift, Slow Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-30
Updated: 2019-01-06
Packaged: 2019-09-30 10:22:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17222192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HMarvels31/pseuds/HMarvels31
Summary: Here's some Holiday season angst and fluff for you all with our favourite Avengers and (my) favourite super soldier! :)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Here's some Holiday season angst and fluff for you all with our favourite Avengers and (my) favourite super soldier! :)

It felt wrong. All of it, on too many levels. The uncertainty was causing you to bite the inside of your cheek and chew on it, a bad habit your mother had always scolded you for as you surveyed the common room in front of you. 

Avengers compound had been as close to home as anywhere could’ve been for the past few years. A mission for them in LA had brought you to the attention of one Tony Stark, and while you’d feared being turned in and jailed, he’d instead _hired_ you. 

Talk about some crazy shit. 

Homeless from the age of seventeen until about three years ago, you’d had to learn how to take care of yourself the hard way. Sometimes that meant aligning yourself with the wrong kind of people to stay alive. That was how you’d ended up doing a botch-hack job into Stark Industries; those wrong people you were stuck with had wanted to steal intel from one of the leading companies in environmentally friendly and advanced technology, and you’d needed an out from an abusive and basically hostage-like situation at that point. The only reason you hadn’t ran on your own was knowing you’d be thrown under the bus by Gavin and his greasy friends, all involved in similar hacking for profit schemes, and some of them had been a lot shadier than you’d known. Stealing information to sell to organizations like HAMMER and AIM was beyond what you’d signed up for; you’d thought it had been some small-time scam sort of deals, just enough money to get by and survive. None of this bullshit. So when the out presented itself, you took it, very quietly tripping several of Stark’s alarms in the system and ending up with Ironman and Black Widow outside of the hole in the wall you were forced to call home. After explaining, here you were. A new Avengers recruit. Crazy how life turned itself around sometimes. 

While Natasha understood you on some pretty deep levels; having to adapt to survive and put red in your ledger if it meant another day to live and a chance for something better… it was the other ex-soviet assassin that you’d been drawn to. He was unbelievably quiet, and basically avoided everyone except his best friend from his previous life, and sometimes tolerated Sam Wilson’s presence or a bit of conversation. Everyone else he gave a wide berth to. He rarely sat in the common room if anyone else was present. If food was ordered in, he hovered on the edge of the room until everyone had filled their plates, before dishing himself up and disappearing back to his room. It had intrigued you, and you’d understood. You hadn’t belonged here, in the multi-million dollar state of the art compound for _superheroes_. So many of your habits for the first few months had been much the same. 

The first night it happened had been burned into your brain. You’d seen some shit, living on the streets. It was bound to happen. Part of the lifestyle. But when you’d woken in a cold sweat, and moments later heard a blood-curdling _scream_ rip through the serene quiet of the compound, it had connected to a broken part of you that was usually buried. In an instant, you’d flung off the covers and took off from your room to the source of the sound. 

Your feet had carried you instinctively, and you’d burst into Sergeant Barnes’ room without second thought, quickly assessing his panicked state, tangled up in the bed sheets and undoubtedly causing him more stress. With care you’d quickly helped to untangle him, before flicking on the lamp on his bedside table so he could actually _see_ he wasn’t wherever his brain had told him he was. Steve had been away on a mission, and you’d _watched_ Bucky return to himself, awareness and life flooding the depths of his steel blue eyes before pain, regret, and undeniable, overwhelming _shame_ had overtaken he blue. He’d hung his head, tried to bury his face in his hands, knuckles white as he pressed his fingertips into his skull to try and keep from crying in front of you. 

Instead, you’d offered him an out. Invited him to come watch TV in your room until he felt better, deciding to not broach his terror. His head had snapped up, eyes wide and full of disbelief, before he’d silently nodded. Two minutes of waiting outside his door and he was beside you, dressed in clean sweatpants and a hoodie, and just as quietly he’d followed you down the halls to your own room. Fifteen minutes into The Magnificent Seven he’d started to break down, to mutter and mumble in a tangled mess of English, French, German, and Russian with tears starting to steal down his cheeks. You held him close, murmured and soothed, whatever it had taken, until the massive super soldier had fallen asleep with his face buried into the crook of your neck. His breath had evened out, the tension had left his shoulders, and you rubbed his back and finger combed his hair until you’d drifted off as well. 

That had been six months ago, and the two of you were inseparable since. Bucky often crawled into your room when he was plagued by nightmares and night terrors, and had stopped hovering outside of the door for god knew how long before knocking and asking to come in. Now, most nights he just let himself in, which had amazed Steve Rogers and even surprised Sam Wilson. Both were pretty intimately acquainted with PTSD and what night terrors could do, as well as having seen and tried to help with Bucky’s conditioning. 

Your favourite nights were when he claimed he was too lazy to cook – even though Bucky didn’t really cook _that much_ – and with a brilliant grin asked you to go into town with him to order takeout. Pizza, Chinese Food, Italian, whatever Bucky could get his hands on that was full of carbs and comfort that he didn’t have to help make. Most times you humored him, because you weren’t exactly a cook either, and if Steve was left to cook _nobody_ was happy. He just boiled _everything_ and _anything_. Even Bucky complained about it and he’d grown up eating the same way. Although you goaded him about it, he never called ahead so anything would be ready to pick up when the two of you arrived in town. Once there, he’d decide what he wanted, the two of you would go in, peruse the menu, order to go, and then hang out. That was when Bucky began to shine through; the Bucky that Steve spoke so fondly of, the one that Sam didn’t _mind_ hanging out with, and the one who Wanda and Natasha both looked up to. You got glimpses of him, in times like that, where his eyes sparkled as he talked, he spoke with his hand, and he was quick with the comebacks and jokes.

He talked about the old days, of going dancing and sneaking into movies, of day trips down to Coney Island with Steve and laughing with his little sister, dancing with his Ma in the kitchen to the old radio. He told stories about the front, of how scared shitless he’d been when he’d been drafted two days before the enlistment fair opened – which he’d honestly planned to attend – and how he’d tried to hide the fear from his family. Partly he’d acted brave because of Steve, who Bucky had so desperately wanted to keep safe, had wanted so badly to go. Bucky had been too ashamed to admit he’d been scared when someone so small and sickly had tried every and any trick in the book to get himself into the army, even if Bucky had loved him for it. Hearing all of those stories while waiting for pizza’s to cook or to get the phone call that their food was ready to be picked up, alongside the late night movies and shared beds and blankets after nightmares had faded away into the darkness and both of you could breathe again, were easily your favorite parts of this new life of yours. The fact that he shared those moments with you still astounded you.

But those moments also made him dangerous. Because, in those moments, Bucky was more than just a friendly interest. He was someone you could fall for, and that couldn’t happen. Nothing could jeopardize your friendship with him, or the fact Tony Stark had given you a new lease on life that you could’ve never dreamed of, and didn’t deserve. 

With Christmas around the corner though, the first one you’d spent since being in high school in a real home, you’d volunteered to help Natasha and Pepper decorate. Which was turning out to be terrifying, and you now understood why Bucky and Steve had eyed you with pity after you’d piped up. Originally you’d thought they were being ridiculous or even rude for not saying anything when the group had been asked. Now it was obvious they just knew better.

All of these decorations were beautiful, but it was almost… too much. For someone who’d lived in a one-room place for almost a year, before that a car that didn’t run and even before that hopping from couch to couch of anyone who would take pity and sleeping in bus stops when there was no one, it was overwhelming. From the stories you’d heard of Bucky and Steve’s childhood, and even Wanda’s, you thought they might be in the same boat. But Natasha and Pepper had grand ideas for the holidays, and the common room currently looked like even Pinterest would be jealous of it. There was a small mountain range of presents beneath the tree, red, gold, and green decorated the walls, mantel, and more, and while it was beautiful it was surreal. 

A weight sat in your stomach at how Bucky would react. He already struggled with such an inferiority complex over being at the compound after the things he’d been forced to do… you were sure this wouldn’t help. His family hadn’t had much extra to go around growing up, much like Steve, and you were sure all these extra trimmings were just going to feel like a smack in the face to him. Another way he didn’t ‘fit in’ with everything else here, and you didn’t want that to happen. 

An idea struck you then, and you were making a list on your phone of things to pick up when the text message to report to the training room interrupted. While Tony insisted he wanted to keep you on reserve to work the tech side of things, Steve and Sam both wanted you to go through proper recruit training so that, should a situation ever arise, you’d be able to take care of yourself and not be a liability. Which actually, in their tough military-male speak, meant they didn’t want you to get hurt. Bucky had told you as much, when you were curled up in his bed in tears over how sore your aching body had been after the first week of proper intensive training. That had helped to spear you on, however, so now you just did the grin and bear it. Although you had gotten considerably stronger over the past eleven or so months.

“Bout time you showed up,” Bucky smirked, looking _too_ good in a tight heather-gray Under Armour shirt and a pair of sweats. “What took you so long, doll?” 

“Oh you know, had to wait for my nails to dry,” you rolled your eyes, your own smirk flirting with your lips as you eyed Sam and Steve also in the room in gear. Sam let out a guffaw before Steve’s baby blue’s were sparkling. 

“Watch out fellas; I heard the only time a woman’s helpless is when her nails are wet,” he quipped, and Bucky was holding his stomach laughing as Sam clapped the blonde man on the back before eyeing you up. His playful smile always helped settle your nerves, because as much as the man liked to talk big, he was a bit of a teddy bear. He just didn’t always show the softer sides the way Steve did, or the way Bucky exposed those parts of himself to you. 

“Careful Cap; I wouldn’t even believe that,” he warned, and soon the four of you were running drills. Sam was your usual partner for sparring or anything like this; while he was incredibly strong, he was still only human, whereas Bucky and Steve worried over hurting you even if they were being mindful and careful. Bucky had lost his arm in a fight with Iron Man last year, you’d learned, and had decided against replacing the left appendage. It was also part of why he kept himself out of the field, claiming liability only having one hand and arm. Steve quietly let him do so, although you now also knew that he worried Bucky’s mental health was rather tied into this whole arm situation, and that Steve had no idea how to bring it up so just let it slide. Even though Bucky was miserable being left behind on missions and made no qualms about growling and complaining to you the entire time about how much he hated feeling useless. But still every time he was offered, he turned it down. Both the replacement arm and spot on the Quinjet. 

“Give! Give!” you cried, nearly whimpering in relief when Sam’s grip on your elbow disappeared and he let you flop onto the training mat. You just hadn’t been able to get his weight off-balance to be able to flip the two of you over to get free. It was a slip you’d struggled with for weeks, and it was frustrating after having made such good progress that even _Captain fucking America_ had complimented and praised you over it. Peter Parker was _still_ a little sour about how quickly you’d progressed and the recognition you’d gotten from the Avengers team over it. And that kid _had_ superpowers. He was also something like ten years younger than you though, which you were pretty sure had something to do with it. 

“You all right? Wilson you shouldn’t be so hard on her,” Bucky immediately reprimanded your partner, having swooped in. His right hand was gentle as he tenderly felt along your arm to make sure you weren’t injured. Inside your chest war had broken up; part of you wanted to blush and curl in against his solid, reassuring strength, to preen a little at the fact Bucky felt _protective_ of you, while the other side wanted to lash out at his lack of belief that you could handle yourself. 

“’m fine, Buck; Sam just held me in the lock,” you answered, and could’ve flinched at the steeliness in his gaze. There was more than a little bit of the soldier there, and it wasn’t something you were really used to seeing. 

“He should’ve known better,” Bucky insisted, and when Sam piped up to remind Bucky that you _hated_ when they took it too easy on you Bucky snapped at him once more. That pissed Sam off, who immediately got in Bucky’s face over it, and you watched nearly in horror as Bucky stood and squared off, looking ready to _fight_ his teammate over it. Over _nothing_. It didn’t make sense. 

“Enough! Buck what the hell’s gotten into you; she’s fine, she told you that, and Sam knows what he’s doing,” Steve gestured to you, and you nodded your agreement. You _were_ fine. 

“Because she isn’t _like_ us and it’s our job to _protect_ her not hurt her! There’s already a damn bruise on her arm, Wilson!” Bucky growled, stalking over to you, taking your wrist and lifting your arm to show off the rather miniscule bruise in the crook of your elbow where Sam’s thumb had been. You’d done worse damage bonking your head on the inside of the fridge in the dark or stubbing your toe than Sam had done with his hold. 

Realistically, you knew his words weren’t meant the way they came out. You knew Bucky meant you weren’t a super soldier like he and Steve, or a trained military operative like all three of the men were, but instead… instead it just stung. It hit you someplace else, and it was written all over Steve and Sam’s faces that they’d noticed. Bucky was still too worked up to have done more than _glance_ at you, his murderous gaze locked onto Sam while you felt like sinking into the ground and staying ten feet under. 

“I’m fine Bucky, honest. I’m uh, gonna call it a day,” you instead choked out, tugging your arm back from Bucky’s grip and making a run for it. Before you’d even made the main exit, tears were gathering in your eyes and you jogged the rest of the way out of the gym and to your room, closing the door behind you. It wasn’t exactly a secret you didn’t belong in Avengers compound, that you weren’t like the rest of them. You weren’t an inherently good person, or a super person for that matter. You just hated having it pointed out by someone who meant more to you than he should. Who you cheered on to find the redemption he deserved but didn’t believe he should have. Bucky liked to insist that you were the same, that you’d find the reason for your second chance because you deserved it. But you’d known, from the moment you’d stepped foot into the compound just behind Tony, that you’d never belong here.

Merry Fucking Christmas.


	2. Chapter 2

“C’mon, doll please, open the door? Please, _please_ open the door?” 

It nearly tore your heart in two to hear the pain in Bucky’s voice as he knocked on your bedroom door with his first, then with his forehead as he stood there and pleaded with an unbeknownst to him empty room. You’d left a half hour before he and Steve tended to shake themselves out of bed and meander to the common kitchen to find coffee, so that you wouldn’t have to face them. Friday’s embarrassment was still too fresh and painful. Even though FRIDAY had contacted you to let you know that Bucky had been outside your bedroom door for nearly twenty minutes already begging to be let in and apologizing. At this rate you were worried he was going to bruise his forehead or miscue and crunch his nose on the solid, reinforced door. He looked beaten up, like he’d hardly slept, but instead you disconnected the feed FRIDAY had sent to your phone and checked over your cart once more. Target had had almost everything you’d hoped for, and even though you knew returning to a place that was supposed to be home but didn’t feel like it would be hard, you didn’t really have any other choice. You were positive that after almost a full year with the creature comforts of _a_ home, going back to the streets wasn’t going to work. And even if you tried? Tony and the rest of the Avengers crew would easily find you and bring you back. Probably with some mandated therapy sessions. Doubly-not worth it. 

Self-checkout meant not having to make awkward small talk with anybody as you rang through your items and bagged them, before hauling it all back out to your car. You’d driven over an hour to a larger center that had a store like this, to make sure you could find everything on your list and not worry about Bucky or Steve simply _running_ into town – because sometimes they did dumb shit like that – to find you. It guaranteed you some peace and quiet, and you’d sent Natasha a quick text saying you were out but would be back before dinner time so that nobody panicked. It appeared she was letting Bucky suffer anyway, probably having guessed correctly that some kind of shit had gone down.   
Natasha had called you out on your little ‘crush’ on Bucky something like three months ago already, but had thankfully kept it quiet. She was kind of a godsend like that.   
The compound was eerily quiet when you returned, no Clint, Sam, or Steve ushering to help you carry your bags in from the car, no music wafting down the hall from Wanda’s room. It took moments to realize what that had meant. A mission. Something had happened and the team had been called out. The day before Christmas.

It gave you the chance to do the things you’d planned to without interruption, though, so you went about wrapping gifts, and doing the little bit of decorating you’d wanted to before realizing that even Bucky had gone. The entire compound was empty, and you were left by yourself, to your own thoughts. It was something that terrified you. In the entire time that you’d been with the Avengers, never once had you been truly, _truly_ alone like this. It was hard to keep your mind from throwing itself headlong into an anxiety attack wondering if they were all going to be okay.

But you had something to prove; to Bucky, to Steve and Sam that you could do this. Surely you could stay by yourself for a few hours or a day or so without losing your shit, that was something normal people did. All the fucking time. So you went to the gym, worked yourself up into a good sweat. Came back to your room and took an amazing, long shower; hot water pounding down sore muscles, washing away stress. Once you were out and wrapped in a fluffy robe you actually _did_ paint your nails while watching some cheesy romantic comedy movie on Netflix, and then you were starting to stall out and struggle. 

Baking. That was something you remembered doing with your mom as a child, before she’d passed away. Surely there were ingredients and FRIDAY could help you find a recipe for something simple. So you shucked the robe and PJ’s for a tank top and a pair of capris before making your way out to the kitchen, phone in hand to play some music while you did so. 

There were a few bumps and setbacks, but eventually you had cookies in the oven baking, and were just cleaning up the dishes when you heard the calamity that meant the return of the team. Instead of going to greet them, to check everybody out for bruises or injuries, you continued with your rather mundane task of washing dough out of mixing bowls and off of spoons, drying and putting away everything except the baking sheets currently occupied. When the first batch of cookies were done, you pulled them out of the oven and replaced the pan with the second, setting the timer once more. By that time there was soft conversation and heavy footsteps coming down the hall, and you only turned to look up from your phone when a small cough reached your ears. 

Bucky, Sam, and Steve stood there, looking like children about to admit they’d done something worth getting in trouble to you. Heads hung, sheepish and apologetic looks on their faces and hands at their sides or behind their backs, in a neat little line in the middle of the kitchen. You raised an eyebrow, and after looking between themselves, Sam took a half step forward. 

“Look, I just… I’m sorry if I pushed you too far the other day. I know you don’t like when we go easy on you but… I’m sorry if I went too far,” he told you, voice soft as he did so. You felt some of your resolve melt away, and turned to better face the three men. 

“Sam…” 

“And I’m sorry too. I mean… you know we just want to look out for you. I know you can take care of yourself and all but… I know we hurt your feelings. You wouldn’t have left otherwise… so just tell me what I need to do differently so I can make sure I don’t hurt you again?” the blonde asked, his voice just as soft and as apologetic as Sam’s had been, and you felt yourself fighting a small smile and the start of tears. 

“Steve, it’s… really it’s fine. I just… I over reacted,” 

“No, you didn’t. I know we can be dense sometimes but… I don’t think I’m that dense,” he chuckled, walking over and wrapping you up in a slightly hesitant hug. “And I mean it, okay?” 

“Okay,” you quietly accepted Steve’s apology and truce, hugging him back before taking a half-step back that matched his own. The brunette with long hair hanging in his face was being uncharacteristically quiet for something like this, and your eyes were drawn to him even though you didn’t mean them to be. Sam walked up and pulled you in for a half-hug too, before he ruffled your hair, shot you a grin, and told you to come find him later for a make-up spar. You bumped him back with your shoulder and a smile, so he left the kitchen with a grin on his face and looking a million pounds lighter. 

“Look, doll I… I’m sorry I snapped at you and Wilson on Monday,” Bucky quietly spike up. Steve wandered to check out your cookies, giving you and Bucky some sense of being alone. “I just… I saw the look on your face before he finally let you go and it just… it bugged me. A lot.” 

Your heart did a wee summersault in your chest. It got to Bucky thinking you were in some kind of situation that he deemed meant you needed saving. It was almost… like a romantic thing. That he wanted and felt the need to step in if he somehow thought you were in distress. It meant he cared, and although you knew he did… this felt like in a way beyond just being friends. The way you were afraid to admit you cared for him. 

“I… it did?” 

Bucky nodded, toe scuffing along the seam of the tiles on the kitchen floor as he kept his eyes averted. “Yeah… almost like… like when I saw someone pickin’ on Becca… I just… I snapped a little. Couldn’t stand the thought of you being hurt. So… I’m sorry I kind of lost it. And… an’ I didn’t mean… oh son of a... what 'm trying to say is... ” 

His words faded out, as if someone was just turning the volume dial down although his mouth kept moving. You were like his _little sister_. It made sense. You couldn’t blame him for that; his sister would’ve undoubtedly been there for him the way you had. There to rub his back and hold him until he slept after night terrors. Open with him about as much about your life as you could stand, so that the two of you were comfortable and had familiarity with one another. Why wouldn’t he think that? Just _look_ at the damn man; he was all magazine issue classical handsome; with his rugged stubble, cut-glass cheekbones and jaw line, stunning blue eyes and ridiculously thick, all hard male build. Why would he look at _you_ as anything more than friend or family? You couldn’t hold a candle to the league he was in. Why you hadn’t seen it earlier, you didn’t know. Or why you hadn’t been able to make yourself realize it so that you could spare yourself some goddamn heartache. 

Because that’s what this was. It pulled at the inside of your chest like he’d taken one of the fancy throwing knives Bucky adored so much and buried it square in the middle of your heart. Then twisted and tried to pull it out. 

The tears were starting to well up in your eyes again, against your will, and you almost imagined seeing Steve shake his head and drop his chin in your peripheral. You needed an escape. But didn’t really _have_ one that wouldn’t be too obvious or wouldn’t hurt Bucky’s feelings. Neither of which you wanted to do. 

“I uh…” 

“I’m so sorry doll, I really, really am,” desperation made the cut-glass of his eyes soft and ragged all at once, and so you nodded, wrapping your arms around your chest. 

“Apology accepted,” you nearly stumbled over the words, thick in your mouth and jagged on your tongue as you forced them out. “Can you uh, watch those for me? I just need to run to the washroom.” 

You didn’t wait for an answer, didn’t need one as you bolted down the hall, to your room, closing and locking the door before barricading yourself in your actual bathroom as well. A harsh sob snuck out, even as you slapped a hand over your mouth to hide and stifle it. Why were you so stupid? 

“Hey… it’s Steve? Let me in?” you heard his voice, but didn’t give FRIDAY the okay for the AI to disengage the locking mechanisms. 

“Please? I’m so sorry… Bucky’s an idiot, I hope you know that,” his voice was soft, and too close. He’d gotten into your room, somehow. Likely because FRIDAY seemed to have a soft spot for the blonde ‘gee shucks’ Captain persona he liked to use so much of the time. Even though he could cuss a blue streak enough to make a sailor blush. 

“Steve, I just…” 

“I know, it’s okay; I know sweetheart,” he cooed through the bathroom door. You sunk down to the floor, back to the cold porcelain of the tub as more tears flooded you. How obvious was it? If even Steve _Rogers_ knew you had stupid unrequited feelings for his best friend? According to Bucky the blonde was as oblivious to women as it got. Sam had seconded that notion with a laugh. 

“I just…” 

The door opened, and you cursed FRIDAY for letting Steve get through as he walked in. He seemed too big for the space somehow, all broad shoulders and hard angles, as he gently closed the door behind him, locked it, and then sat himself down beside you. “I know what it’s like to care about someone you’re worried is out of your league. Or who doesn’t feel the same way. Buck… he didn’t mean the thing about his sister. Not… not like _that_ , he just—”

“He made it pretty clear, Steve,” you quietly responded, fisting tears from your cheeks. You hated to seem weak, especially to someone as strong as him. “It’s okay, I know… I know it’s stupid. That I’m being stupid. Really… it’s okay, I’ll be fine. It just… for right now it stings, a little bit.” 

Steve’s expression fell then, and he wrapped his arms around your shoulders to hold you close. “God he’s a dummy. A really big fuckin’ dummy… you know that right? I wouldn’t lie to you sweetheart,” 

“I know,” you nodded, burying your nose against Steve’s collarbone. For someone so ridiculously muscular he was very comfortable to snuggle in against. His slow, even breaths began to help calm you, your eyelids beginning to feel heavy, like someone had hung weights on them. 

“C’mon, you need a snooze,” he decided, arm slipping beneath the back of your knees and around your shoulders to easily lift you up. A small sound of protest came from your throat, but you let him continue as he walked you out of your bathroom and to your bed. With the kind of care that seemed unnatural from a man so large he pulled back the sheets and settled you down. Those bear paw sized hands tucked you in, and smoothed the hair back from your face before cupping your cheek for just a second. 

“He’ll figure himself out… right now he feels like a real putz so don’t be surprised if Buck keeps to himself for a couple of days until he comes up with a plan of action but… it’s not your fault, okay? Bucky was pretty infamous for making a fool of himself in front of a pretty dame,” Steve winked, and kissed your forehead before slipping out of your room, leaving you to wonder what he meant before you drifted off to sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

Steve hadn’t been kidding when he’d let you know Bucky was going to keep to himself for a couple of days. 

Christmas morning he hadn’t so much as shown his face, not for gifts, or dinner, or even just to get himself a snack. It was as if he’d disappeared. And he’d barricaded his bedroom door so that nobody he didn’t want to see could have access to him. That had stung even worse than his words had, you had to admit, so instead you’d painted on a brave face and gone about the holiday with everyone, opening a few gifts and helping prepare dinner, enjoying being part of something. Tony had gifted you official Avengers recruit status, and a title. It meant you were part of all of this, officially, and that you belonged, which had meant more than he could know. Although you suspected he had a damn good idea of just what it had meant to you anyway. 

Steve and Sam had been ridiculously accommodating to the point of overbearing, until you’d told them to stop acting like doofuses. It had made Steve look shocked, and Sam bust a gut laughing until they’d both relaxed. 

The day after Boxing Day though, the quiet holiday had come to an end. A small mission out in London, and then Steve and Bucky had disappeared to Wakanda to help the king with some issue between tribes. It was apparently very unorthodox for any outside help to step in, but you’d shrugged it off. Steve had more than earned the trust and respect of the Wakandan king and those close to him. There weren’t many people Steve didn’t invoke that trust and respect from. But it also meant no opportunity to patch things up with Bucky, and in all honesty you missed him. 

“C’mon, lighten up; it’s New Years Eve! You have to stay up. Please? Pretty please?” Sam batted his thick eyelashes at you and made you groan. Your plan for New Years had been Netflix, Pajamas and your bed. None of this staying up to watch the ball in New York City drop or anything that actually involved staying up that late. 

“Sam, c’mon… I’m tired…” you whined, and let out a squeal when he picked you up to physically carry you back out to the common room. 

“C’mon, if you fall asleep on the couch I’ll let you use me as a pillow. Until you drool, then you’re on your own,” he decided, and you groaned but went limp, knowing arguing was going to be useless at this point. Undoubtedly Sam wasn’t the only Avenger who wanted you there for the festivities, so if you managed to get him off your case, another would follow suit in trying to convince you. Sometimes you had to pick your battles. 

You kept to yourself a bit, sitting in the corner of the sectional couch, Natasha and Clint to your left, Sam on your right, as you watched the television program. Steve and Bucky still hadn’t returned, and you wondered if it was already the New Year where they were in Wakanda. Google would likely tell you, but your phone was in your room. From the looks you’d gotten from Sam, Natasha _and_ Pepper, you weren’t allowed out of the common room for a while. 

“Ten minutes to midnight! Everybody ready!” Tony’s voice spooked you out of your doze, and you blinked over to see that most of the crew were in similar states. Nobody seemed to actually be up to the task of staying up. But there were a lot of valiant efforts. 

“We didn’t miss it did we?” 

The familiar, warm tone of Steve’s voice floated in and seemed to clear some of the fog in your head. You perked up, pushing yourself up to look over toward the entrance to the kitchen. Standing there, looking sharp in jeans and a sweater, was Captain America himself, looking bashful and holding a bottle of what looked like champagne. “T’Challa sends his best wishes… and what I’m assuming are a _real_ expensive couple of bottles of bubbly.” 

Tony scoffed and was soon muttering about how if he’d known anybody wanted fancy champagne he’d have arranged for it, making Pepper chuckle and you grin, before Steve’s eyes landed on yours. There was a mischievous sparkle in them that had you wary, and when he smirked and winked at you knew you had to be correct. What he was hiding, though, you weren’t sure. 

“How you holding up sweetheart?” he asked, plopping down beside you and offering you a glass. Reluctantly you took it, not really wanting to add alcohol to your sleepy disposition, but not wanting to turn down a gift from an actual fucking king. 

“All right. This hooligan drug me out of my room away from pajamas and Netflix, but y’know,” you shrugged, making Steve snort. “How was Wakanda?” 

“Good, really good actually; next time we go you’ll have to come along,” Steve told you, pouring himself a glass which surprised you. “It’s beautiful there. And still so warm. God I love that it’s warm there all year round.” 

Steve _still_ disliked being cold, even though he claimed to still adore New York City – and state – in the Christmas season. He just liked seeing it from the comfort and warmth of his apartment rather than being immersed in it. 

“I bet,” you sighed dreamily, taking a sip of the champagne and finding it dry but sweet on your tongue. 

“Holy shit… am I seeing what I think I’m seeing? Pep, how much did I drink?” Tony looked like he’d seen a ghost, and you turned to see Bucky walking into the common room. He looked unbelievably uncomfortable, hair newly shorn to just above his shoulders, still long enough to hang but not long enough to properly ponytail anymore. The red Henley he seemed to favor was stretched comfortably across his shoulders and chest, but then you saw it. 

He had a left arm. For the first time in nearly two and a half years… Bucky had two arms. Involuntarily your jaw dropped and your eyes widened, and someone took your champagne flute from your fingers as you took him in. 

“H-hey,” he stuttered out, giving the tiniest of half-waves before shoving his hands back in the pockets of his jeans and hurrying over to squish himself onto the couch between you and Clint. A slightly indignant squawk came from the blonde archer before Natasha shot him a look to keep him quiet. Bucky sat stock still, almost like he was afraid he’d stepped on a landmine, before he turned his head ever so slightly to look at you. 

“Bucky… you’re… you…” 

Words were apparently escaping you too. Great. 

“What do you think?” he quietly asked, fear tainting his words even though he was trying to hide it. Slowly you reached out, let your fingertips draw along a golden seam in the dark metal of his forearm. You knew what the old cybernetic arm had looked like; polished, shining silver with a red star across his shoulder. Plates that fit so perfectly together and moved like something from a sci-fi movie, and looked as dangerous. This new arm was… elegant, almost. Like it had been designed with the wearer in mind, someone who preferred darker colors and less flash, and had been built to suit. The gold accents somehow suited him perfectly, and you hadn’t heard any of the whirs and sounds that he and Steve told you had used to come from the old prosthetic. This one was silent, like it was magic instead of technology.

“It’s… beautiful. I just… I mean… you always said you didn’t…” 

“This is… different. I just… T’Challa’s sister, Shuri, engineered it for me. So I can be helpful. So I can makeup for some of the things I’ve done. So I can stop using it as an excuse,” he whispered, leaning in to you before slowly reaching out with his new fingers and lining his palm up with yours. “It’s still a little strange but… I think it’ll be good. I wouldn’t have done it if it weren’t for you.” 

“What?” 

The word was out before you could stop it, and you stared openly at him. That made no sense, and Bucky was apparently a little uncomfortable with being called out in front of everyone as well. 

“C’mere,” he stood, sparing the television a quick glance before offering said new left hand to you. “We’ll be back in time for the ball to drop. I just… I need to talk to you.” 

You nodded and took his hand, too stunned for much else, and let him lead you down the hall towards were both of your rooms were. His came up much sooner than yours, and so he opened the door and flicked on the light, the two of you just stepping inside so he could close the door most of the way. 

“I was a dumbass, and a jerk… amongst other things,” Bucky sighed, running his right hand through his hair. His left stayed just hardly holding onto your fingers, like he was too scared to get a better grip but didn’t want to let you go. “I… I was using my arm as an excuse. Because I felt like I didn’t belong. Didn’t deserve to be here. And I had a crutch; being one armed could’ve meant putting someone I care about in danger. So I just didn’t do it. But I made you listen to all of my bitching about not being in the field when I was the only reason I was benched. Which wasn’t right either. And then… then I snapped at you and Wilson. And ‘m real fucking sorry about that. I didn’t realize… didn’t realize what about it had made you upset. But now I think I do.” 

Your heart was frozen in your chest, and you swallowed hard. Bucky’s eyes were moving from you to his dresser, to the window, to the back of his door and back, too nervous to settle somewhere as he spoke. 

“Y-you do?” 

“I said you weren’t… weren’t like us. And that’s bullshit. I mean, you’re not a super soldier, obviously but… you are one of us. You’re one of the team, you’re an Avenger… and I shouldn’t have questioned you like that. Or undermined you like that when you said you were okay. Or snapped when you and Sam tried to put me in my place,” he hung his head then, and let out a heavy breath. “I just… the instant I heard that sound come from you, that it _hurt_ … I saw red.” 

“Because I’m like your little sister?” you threw it out there, not wanting to sound petulant, but needing to know. Needing to hear him confirm it to start uprooting and tearing out the fledgling pieces of stupid feelings you were developing. Instead Bucky groaned and leaned against his door, letting his head knock slightly against the wood. 

“No. _No_. you are very much _not_ like my sister,” he corrected you. “That was the next stupid fucking thing I did. I’ve never come so close to Steve Rogers wringing my neck in all my life as I was after saying _that_ stupidity.” 

“So…” 

‘You’re not like my sister doll, not in a million fucking years,” he whispered, tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip. “I… I… I’m real fucking terrified about it but… but I like you. In a… in a more than friends way, doll. I know ‘m all kinds of fucked up but… New Year new me, and all that, right? I thought I’d start with the arm and see what else I could do from there. See if I can still fix… or, or _try_ to fix the things I’ve fucked up between us…” 

He lifted his left arm slightly as if in proof, before closing the distance between the two of you. Soft, uneven breaths came from his chest and ghosted across your skin, before he leaned in and pressed his lips to yours. Fireworks went off behind your eyelids, and you kissed him back, free hand rising to softly brush against his cheek before the kiss ended. 

“I say stupid shit when I’m upset. Especially when I’m worried about someone. When I said that… what my brain _meant_ was that I saw red and needed to step in, because you mean a lot to me. _Because_ back then that’s what I did, because my little sister was my world because Ma needed me to protect her, and I loved her to death. I did that for everybody who meant the world to me. So… my brain drew the connection and it came outta my mouth all wrong. That’s all, sugar, I swear… you left the kitchen and Steve nearly boxed my goddamn ears,” Bucky explained, and then kissed your cheek, his hands – one cool to the touch, the other warm – softly stroking your arms. It was almost too good to be true, like you were waiting for this to be some cruel dream or joke. 

“S-so…” 

“So, if you’ll have me kitten, I’m all yours,” he whispered, pressing his lips to yours once more. “I’ve got a lot of work to do, I know, but… I’m willing to work for it. Like I said, New Year, new me. Cheesy but apparently that’s the best time for resolutions. And I’m determined to stick to this one. But I’ll need your help, doll.” 

A smile curled your lips then as you slid your hands up his arms and around his strong shoulders, feeling the soft material of his Henley shirt beneath your fingertips. “I think I can manage that. If we still have time before the ball drop… I want to show you something.” 

Bucky checked his phone, and groaned. “We have about a minute…” 

“Ball drop, then the surprise,” you decided, and with a nod he followed you back to the common room. Bucky kept your right hand in his left, and the two of you leaned on the wall just behind the love seat to watch the countdown and consequent ball drop, welcoming in the new year. You saw warmth in Bucky’s steel blue eyes as he watched everybody cheer and congratulate, saw Tony press a sweet kiss to Pepper’s lips, Vision do the same to Wanda, and Clint even nervously pecked Natasha’s cheek. Steve shot the two of you a pointed look, before using his ‘I know the answer to what I’m asking but I’m using my age as an excuse to ask it anyway’ voice about couples kissing on new years. Pepper answered it was to say goodbye to a year with someone you cared and welcome a new year with them in your life; so that they were the last and first part of those years. With a smirk he nodded and leaned back in his seat, content with the information, before Bucky softly tipped your chin up and pecked your mouth. 

“I like the sound of that,” he whispered, and made you blush before you snuck him out of the living room and down to your room. 

“Close your eyes,” you whispered, and with a huff he did so. 

“No scary shit?” he asked, voice wavering only slightly. You rolled your eyes and reassured him that no, there was no scary shit about to go down. You didn’t like scary things either. Bucky had a tendency to almost disassociate if somebody purposefully scared him and he wasn’t expecting it; you never knew if he was going to freeze, swing a fist, run for the hills or crumple and cry. Bucky didn’t particularly enjoy having _any_ of those reactions.

“I just… you missed Christmas. And I kind of thought all the hullabaloo that Natasha and Pepper had organized and decorated was a little out of your comfort zone,” you explained. Bucky’s cheeks held a hint of pink then, but he nodded. Apparently being painfully honest – even if he was embarrassed – was part of this new year’s revolution he was sticking to.

“Just a little,” 

“So… ta-da,” you exclaimed, and Bucky opened his eyes. You nearly thought he was going to tear up, as his bottom lip quivered for a second and he pulled you in tight. You’d set up the small tree in the corner of your room just yesterday; a few baubles and ornaments on it, popcorn strings and a little bit of tinsel, a tiny star on top. A few gifts wrapped in brown paper and tied with string – even though there was some tape used to make sure they stayed closed – were arranged beneath it. Bucky’s chest heaved where it was pressed against your back, his arms tight around you as he took it all in. You’d expected some reaction from him, but hadn’t really dared to hope that it would be something like this. Bucky was rendered speechless, working to keep his emotions in check as he held you and simply stared at your afternoon’s worth of work. It had seemed a simple enough gesture, but the way he was behaving made it seem like you’d gone above and beyond anything he could’ve dreamed of. Your chest felt like it was blooming with warmth, proud and content that you’d been able to do this for him.

“Merry Christmas, sorry it’s late,” you whispered, kissing his cheek. 

“Did you do all this… for me?” he asked, and you shrugged. 

“And Steve. And because… because all of that felt like too much for me too,” you answered, keeping your voice soft. Bucky’s lips found your temple then, and he walked over to turn on the string of fairy lights placed in the tree, before he sat on your bed and held his arms out, beckoning you to join him. Closing your door you obliged, and settled between his thighs, his chest to your back, his chin on your shoulder as the two of you took in the little corner of Christmas, in the first, tender and fresh minutes of the New Year. It was fitting that it was bringing on a world of change, like the world around the two of you was holding its’ breath in anticipation of what could unfold. 

“It’s perfect,” he breathed. “I can’t believe you did this even after the bonehead move I pulled. You’re a miracle, sugar.” 

“I’m far from a miracle, Bucky,” you insisted, but he kissed you quiet. 

“You’re a miracle to me,” he repeated, and snuggled back into the pillows. “How about we cuddle for a bit? Spend the first part of the New Year the way we shoulda been spending the last couple of months? If I wasn’t such a dipshit and all?” 

You hummed, pretending to have to consider it, before chuckling. “I’d like that. The new year is a fresh start and all, right?” 

His blue eyes and smile lit up his face then, and an enthusiastic kiss landed on your lips. “I’d love nothing more than that. New Year… new us? Is that a thing? Can we make it a thing?” 

“I’d love nothing more,” you agreed, and settled in, right where you belonged.


End file.
